


Magnum Opus

by vampirecult



Series: Misadventures of Beetlejuice & Reader [1]
Category: Beetlejuice - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Eating out, F/M, First Time, I tried my best, Imaginary Friends, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Memories, Mutual Pining, Old Friends, Other, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Sexual Frustration, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SELF INSERT LET ME LIVE!!!!!, Vaginal Sex, a little ooc, alrighty im done yall thanks for listening to my TED talk, anyway, bottom reader, but i decided to make it open ended, gender neutral reader, i modeled my BJ after the cartoon personality wise, i tried to convey ambiguous genitalia but i think it leans towards reader having a vagina???, reader is 23 in the current setting and was 18 when they met bJ, the beetlejuice house, well....they can be read as any gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 07:36:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12338328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vampirecult/pseuds/vampirecult
Summary: Reader returns back to the home they tried to forget about, and the 'friend' they avoided for 5 years.





	Magnum Opus

_“I wrote this instead of my term paper.”_

 

               The house was still standing, much to your surprise, looking comparatively dull in contrast to the lush and untrimmed area around it. It was almost exactly the same as you had last seen it, if not for the excess of chipping paint that had congealed onto the home’s walls over the years. The building was starting to look like a Dalmatian—albeit a diseased and decaying one. You absently gazed at the “FOR SALE” sign haphazardly posted beside the entrance to the driveway. Jane Butterfield’s name was painted in a cheap red color against the faded yellowish white of the rest of the sign. Shiny at a glance, but one only had to squint to see the cracks in the wood. _She must be slow for business if she’s still investing in this dump,_ you thought, grinning to no one but yourself.

            Though it had been almost five years, the sight of it all still brought stark memories back into your head. The smell of the pines growing wild and unruly behind the house blew into your nose, and you took a deep breath, taking time to soak it in. Opening your eyes, you pulled your backpack out of the passenger seat of your refurbished 1988 Range Rover, slinging it over your shoulder and beginning your ascent to the front steps. You noticed they had taken down the abject architecture that had been built upon the home when your family had purchased it some odd years ago. _An improvement was made, how fascinating._ Still, this only proved to push you even further out of place when it came to seeing the house after so many long years of avoiding it. It felt… _changed_. Or rather, you knew it was still the same horrid, feverish house from your nightmares, but now it was _detached_. Not from you by any means (praise the lord if it ever let you live your life free from its confines), but detached from the image you had built of it inside your head. It was like it had its own separate identity now.

            You were at the front door, then. The red paint was still there, though now it looked more like a dulled rouge. Slapped on someone’s face before a party and not washed off the next day, forgotten in the midst of a drunken stupor. You tried peering through the windows, but it was dark as pitch on the other side. _Figures._ Reaching into your jacket pocket, you withdrew a set of keys. _Hopefully they haven’t changed the locks._ You presented the longest key to the doorknob, easing it in slowly, rhythmically, waiting for the satisfying click you knew would bring you home the second you felt its small vibration ring throughout your fingertips. A small sliding sound was heard. _Ah, there you are._ Smiling, you turned the key and felt chills move throughout your body as the door swung open, revealing a greying interior. The cold temperature outside could never compare to the barren, Alaskan climate you felt as you entered the home you once knew better than your own palms. Better than your favorite color. Better than the Beatles records your father would play on weekends, dancing with you standing on the topsides of his feet. Of course, those memories belonged to other homes, other neighborhoods. You had simply copied and pasted them into this one in a desperate attempt to create comfort. You felt an immense urge to cry, but the tears didn’t come. There wasn’t any time for that, anyway. You had a mission. You slid the keys back into your pocket and slung your backpack onto the nearest surface, which so happened to be a dusty coffee table in the next room over. From inside the pack, you withdrew a single item: a book entitled _Handbook for the Recently Deceased_. Try as you might to find the author, you never could. Either way, it wasn’t the author you needed to contact. It was _him_. In the past, you hadn’t needed the old tome to conjure him, but after so much time away, you figured having a familiar object around could do no harm. You took a glance at the steep, slender stairway behind you. It was up there. _The attic._ The place you’d spent most of your 18 th year inside. Or rather, most of your adventures began inside of it. No, you distinctly remember some days and nights being inside a completely separate _dimension_. Though most memories were fuzzy, the images of _him_ never changed. Maybe that was on purpose. They served as a constant reminder of what had been and what could have been.

            _Well, enough procrastinating._ You’d been prolonging this reunion for years. Five of them, to be exact, and they had proved to be the longest of your life. Clutching the book in your right hand, you began your ascent. Each floorboard creaked in protest against your weight, and though you knew you were of fairly average stature, the house hadn’t been inhabited for years. It was reaching the second century mark, no less. This did nothing to sway your advancement though. Once on the second floor, you gave yourself a moment to reminisce. You paused outside of the door to what had been your room for the brief year you’d lived inside of it. You thought about opening it up, allowing yourself another glance into the past, but that would come later. First things first. You had priorities to keep in line.

            Besides, there was another door you were looking for. There, at the end of the hall. It stood out not only in principle, but visually, it was darker and taller than the others. Without thinking, you began walking towards it. You tried your hand at the latch, but of course it was locked as well. No matter. You had the keys for a reason. This time, it was a much shorter key—meant to be hidden, meant to be kept a secret, like everything else involving the attic and its contents. Taking the shorter key and pushing it into the knob, another click was heard, though it was much quieter. Though it was a slighter sound, it still reverberated within you. You had to take a breath before continuing your journey. Eventually, you mustered the courage to pull the door open, and peered up the darkened stairway. Your eyes lit up, almost literally, when you saw glowing above you. The door at the top of the stairs had been left ajar, whether from a past visitor forgetting to close it properly or through shoddy hinges, you didn’t know. Either way, there was no mistaking the light emanating from inside the attic room.

            Cautiously, you took a step upwards, gaining confidence as you ascended the second flight to the top of the old house. The dark door slid open with a heavy creak once you made it to your destination, and you were left in awe at the sight of the room before you. In your mind, you knew no one else but the real estate company had access to the house, let alone such an intimate part of it. But that didn’t explain why the room was lit up the way it was. String lights hung from the lofted ceiling, scattered like stars in the sky, creeping like branches in front of your eyes. The model town was still there, the windows in each building illuminated. You felt like an astronaut looking down on it all. A passerby to a world you had once been such an immense part of. For a moment, you forgot rationality. You accepted that this place had never held any room for reason. So, you ignored the nagging in your mind that questioned why all of this was still waiting for you, like no time had passed at all. A tiny coming home ceremony, with only one participant. Well, two, if you were successful. And in a way, wasn’t the house an entity in this situation as well? Watchful over you as you passed through its halls, cementing every memory of you in its history.

            Sighing, you sat down on the couch near the back of the room. The blinds were closed over the one window in the tall room, leaving it looking like a nighttime landscape. You brought your knees to your chest, holding the book under your chin like it would disappear if you didn’t keep a tight enough hold on it. You closed your eyes, and marveled at how the light from the makeshift stars and city buildings still managed to poke through your eyelids, making themselves known even in the shadow of your eyelashes. Another deep breath. You leaned backwards, taking it slowly.

            It was time.

            “Beetlejuice.” The word came like a mantra, sliding out of your throat with ease. A single star flickered. “Beetlejuice.” The air around you took on a buzzing sensation, surrounding you with static energy. The moon above the model town came in and out of waking. Your heart seemed to momentarily stop before you uttered the last part of your prayer. _“Beetlejuice.”_

            The lights dissipated. Your eyes shot open with the abrupt loss of vision, but you dared not move. Didn’t dare make a sound. You simply waited, letting your ears absorb all possible noise in the room. Except, there wasn’t any. Not even a whistle of wind through the cracks in the wall. It was as if the world had stopped, and you were left floating on inside of it, your heart beating like a drum in your ears.

            Then they came back—the lights. They flickered back to life, and brought with them another entity entirely. You had to rub your eyes to make sure they were seeing clearly, but there was no mistaking the identity of the person across the dark room. _Beetlejuice_. He sat on top of one of the various low-hanging bookshelves scattered across the room, leant forward with his elbows on his knees. Slowly, his head rose to catch your gaze, and you felt yourself flinch. You thought you had been prepared for this. A belated reunion of old friends, if that’s what you could call him. A toothy grin spread across his features, and you allowed yourself a small smile in return.

            It was then that he began laughing, starting low in his throat and then growing upwards into his mouth. He threw his head back in hilarity, rubbing his eye with a single finger in a mock show of wiping tears away. His gaze returned and he fell into a series of giggles at the sight of you. Apparently, you had missed the joke.

            “You sure had me going, kid.” Beetlejuice spoke. The sound of his voice was startling to hear after years of deprivation. “Thought you’d gone for good. Shoulda known you were better than what they told me.”

            “I…” You swallowed. “I didn’t mean to go for so long.” It wasn’t a complete lie. You always knew you were destined to come back to this place, but college had gotten in the way. This town didn’t have its own, and your parents weren’t here to anchor you to it anymore.

            “Sure, sure.” He replied, expression taking on a sarcastic appearance. He hopped off of the shelf, slowly striding around the table model, carefully making his way around. He stopped in front of you, no more than five feet away. You could tell he was trying his best to keep his distance. “I’ll take your word for it, sugar cheeks. Kid’s gotta get an education after all, right? We all grow outta imaginary friends eventually.” His grin fell slightly, yellow eyes looking down on you like an owl on a forest mouse.

            “I’m sorry.” Your voice was quiet, but you didn’t let your eyes leave his. If anything, he deserved your honesty, and eyes spoke all truths. You stood up from the sofa, legs unfurling. You had never been tall, but you found you were almost his height now. Not sure what five years could do for someone past puberty, but it gave you some confidence. “If it’s any consolation…” Your eyes grazed over his body for a moment. “…you were never imaginary to me.”

            You saw his eyes lose their sinister edge, but the movement was only slightly detectable. Nevertheless, his smile returned, and he cocked his head at you, crossing his arms.

            “I could’ve told you that, babe.” Beetlejuice snorted. “If ya need any more proof, I’d be willing to show you _just how real I can be_.”

            With that remark, he took two steps forward until he was directly in front of you. He still had a few good inches on you, but it was clear he was surprised by your growth.

            He whistled, “Damn, do they grow up fast. Coulda sworn I had a full foot on you last time we met, sweetheart.”

            You smiled genuinely for the first time since the conversation had begun, and answered, “I’ve been growing a lot, lately. Height’s the least of your worries.”

            At this, he raised an eyebrow, a sly grin forming on his lips. “Well then, is this an invitation to investigate? I gotta warn you, I’m an ace detective. Best in my class, babe. Dunno if you can handle my level of intense surveillance.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you and you laughed, feeling back into the rhythm you two had all those years ago. It had only been about 10 minutes, but nearly half the fear you had of this moment had disappeared.

            “What I mean is,” You took a moment. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. I know leaving without even saying goodbye was really, really shitty. Like, probably the shittiest thing I’ve ever done.”

            “You can say that again.” He rolled his eyes. You deserved that.

“ _Anyway_ , I came back for a reason. I…belong here. I’ve tried living in other towns, other houses, but none of them feel the same. They’re all empty. I stay up at night thinking about this place.” You started to pace, Beetlejuice watching with his arms crossed as you circled the room. “It’s like I’m haunted. I never got over leaving it…” You stopped on the other side of the table. “…or you.”

Now _that_ caught his attention. He turned to face you fully, eyebrows raised.

“I never told you this, but…the truth is, you were more to me than just a friend.” You averted your eyes, the speech you had practiced in your head playing like an audiobook you couldn’t quite keep up with. “I didn’t have anyone back then. Without you, I probably wouldn’t be where I am now, and I hate myself for not realizing it sooner.” You laughed softly, but it was humorless. “At first, you were something strange and odd and _exciting_ , but over time, it _changed_. I’m not sure when exactly, but one day I looked at you and saw something different than a friend. Someone who was there when I needed them, someone who understood me. I’d never experienced that before, not at that level.”

You closed your eyes. “I became… _infatuated_ , with you. I thought about things I shouldn’t have, and for years I’ve fought those feelings, but I had to realize sooner or later that if I didn’t come to terms with them, I’d never be able to leave this place. Not physically, not mentally. And it turns out…I don’t want to leave.”

You looked up to where Beetlejuice stood, stock still, his face one of uncertainty, brows furrowed. A sudden feeling of vulnerability enveloped your gut. You looked down at your feet, afraid of his gaze.

“B-But anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, I don’t have to stay if it’s weird, but I couldn’t live with myself if I just let this—”

You didn’t have time to finish as an abrupt pressure was felt around you. It was strangely warm, and you realized you were being hugged. Beetlejuice clung you to his chest, wordless in speech but his actions bled volumes. Though your arms were mostly trapped at your sides, you managed to move them enough to circle them around the other man’s waist, holding him closer. You had hugged before, near the end of your time with him, but never this close.

“Hey, kid.” His voice rumbled against you from where his head sat against your shoulder. “Wanna know a secret?”

You smiled. “Shoot.”

He withdrew from the hug without letting you go completely, and looked down at you with a foxlike grin. _“I’ve been mad for you for five years.”_

Oh. Well, _that_ was a surprise. There was barely time to think past that. He slid a snakelike hand around your neck, gentle in his movement but you would soon learn this was but a small mercy when compared to what was to come. His lips mashed into yours, and another hand came to press against the small of your back, pushing your bodies closer than you ever thought would be deemed comfortable. A slick warmth could be felt prying its way into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but gasp as Beetlejuice slipped his wormlike tongue past your lips, searching its contents like a pirate would buried treasure. And isn’t that what he was? A pirate, finally discovering the gold that had been hidden from him for so long. His heated fervor was barely hidden, and soon his hands began to move, coming to your hips and lifting you. Your lips separated, leaving you in a stupor as you were hefted over Beetlejuice’s shoulder.

            “Don’t worry babe, m’not done with you yet. The main show is on its way!” He snickered, and suddenly you were no longer in the attic. The starlights were gone, replaced with the dull glow of the sunset through dark red drapes. Not being able to see the rest of the room’s interior due to the odd position you had against your assailant’s back, you failed to notice you were being pushed onto a bed until you were flat on your back, Beetlejuice crawling over you like a spider would a fly, ensnared in its web.

            “What are you gonna do?” You dared to ask, boldly staring into his hooded eyes. His own gaze could be described as anything but wholesome.

            “Not ruinin’ the surprise, doll.” He licked his lips, and you felt your eyes follow the flick of his tongue. He leant forwards, inhaling your scent. “ _Oh_ , I’ve waited _far_ too long to let this go to waste.”

            His breath ran hot against your neck and you became fully aware of the situation. Well, as mentally aware as you could be when being seduced by an undead bio-exorcist. But you wouldn’t have time to delve into that specific train of thought. Your inner monologue was interrupted by the foreign feeling of something wet and warm against your nape. Beetlejuice was running his tongue along your neck, tasting you, inscribing each flavor into his cranium for future reference. You felt your own breathing hasten with the feeling, and you began to wonder why you hadn’t told him sooner. In the dark recesses of your mind, you knew. You had been afraid of losing him. Even then, that summer after graduating and moving into this godforsaken house, in a new town with new people, you had felt it. Meeting Beetlejuice had given you a place to go to for familiarity and companionship. _Understanding_. Of course, back then he had felt much more like an imaginary friend than a real, tangible poltergeist. Back then, it had been completely okay to imagine yourself getting fucked into oblivion by someone you thought you’d created in a fictional world, kept only to yourself, for no one else to know or care about. Oh, how wrong you’d been. If only you’d known how distinctly _aware_ he had been of your desires. The whispers of his name in your bedroom after everyone had long since fallen asleep, forgetting in your lonely, hormone-driven haze that one simple, universal rule: he always comes. Three times, that’s the game, and _ohhhh_ did you sing for him. Of course, he never made a sound. Simply watched in awe, aghast at the vision of you gasping for him, reaching deep inside yourself in an attempt to _feel something_ , letting your hands become puppets in his name. But it soon became much more than that. Dear god, did he want to act on his more primal urges, but something held him back. Not a lot of people stuck around him. Not like you did. No, you were different. _Much different._ And _hell_ if he was going to squander that on a quick frustrated fuck. He wasn’t even sure if that was all he wanted. Over time, it developed into something much more than that. There were lots of days when your parents would force you to go outside, to go into town and find something to do, maybe a job if you were lucky enough to find an opening in this dusty church town. You’d always come back within an hour, and then you would find Beetlejuice. He’d show you around the Neitherworld, most often getting you both into trouble, but being the Ghost with the Most meant you could worm your way out of even the ficklest of situations. Being around you then was hard, knowing what he now knew about you, and he puzzled over how easy it was for you to simply talk to him and laugh as if you hadn’t just rubbed one off the night before to the thought of his slimy dick slamming inside of you. You’d never know this, though. He would never tell you. Not even the day you left, leaving him behind like some sort of child’s imagination. A bedtime story. Sure, you’d notice the sultry glances thrown your way in your more silent times between arguments and banter, and fuck if there hadn’t been an almost colossal increase in absurd innuendos, but you simply chalked that up to his personality. If anything, it only egged you on in your nighttime activities, fueled the fire that burned in his brain like hot iron.

            Now it was all in the light, and it was real. He _obviously_ harbored more than platonic emotions towards you. That was evident in his movements, in his labored breathing as he slid his way down your body, grabbing your coat off to get at the ratty old _Wham!_ t-shirt your dad had gotten from a concert as a teenager. You allowed him to pull that off as well, making sure he didn’t rip it in his haste to feel your bare skin against his rough hands. You shivered at the feeling of them sliding around your hips, squeezing them to cement his touch onto your body. Your arms fell limp at your sides, and you swallowed thickly as he examined your bare chest for the first time ever. You could tell he wanted to go faster, to expel the neediness that had consumed him for the past five years, but contrary to popular belief, Beetlejuice could be kind. Depending on the situation, of course. You wanted to reassure him you were more than ready for this, but as you looked into his eyes, you saw something else. He was looking at you carefully, taking it all in. _He needed to remember._ You felt a tinge of guilt in your stomach then, and decided to act on it.

            Raising your arms to latch around your old friend’s neck, you brought him close to you, kissing him as he relaxed his body on top of you.

            “I’m not leaving. Never again.” The words seemed to resonate within him, and a visual difference could be seen in his eyes. They turned from a honey yellow to a dark pink, one you had rarely seen on him before this moment. It was then that he changed his pace.

            Beetlejuice growled, easing his way down to your waist. He took no time in unbuckling your pants and slid them off with a flourish, returning immediately to tease at your black and white striped underwear. You laughed when he raised an eyebrow at this. Finding your taste in undergarments particularly adorable, he made sure to take them off carefully, but tossed them to the floor once they were off of their host. You were bare to him, then, but didn’t have time to feel self-conscious as he lifted your thighs upwards to hang around his shoulders like a necklace. He spread kisses down your legs, biting in some places which would elicit small gasps from you, prodding him further and further until he met his destination. The apprehension in your body was tangible, and he could smell it. There was no hiding from this. Hot breath fell upon your groin as his lips moved their way from your bellybutton to the beginning of your sex, already slick with arousal. His first moan was heard once he tasted you, and he couldn’t get enough. The undead specter took you into his mouth like candy, and boy, he had one hell of a sweet tooth. It was unlike anything your mind could have ever imagined. Better than you had previously imagined it to be, anyway.

            The sounds that came out of your throat didn’t sound like your own, but they were pure, unadulterated expressions of your desire. You always knew he was an experienced romancer, but to be on the receiving end of his expertise was making you reach heights you never thought you’d see in your lifetime. It might have helped that you had never actually experienced sex beyond your previous fantasies of him or what you learned in Sex ED back in eighth grade. This was made clear in how your legs trembled around him, his tongue moving on you like it was discovering new worlds with each caress and quiver of your body.  He let you wrap a fist in his hair as he went down on you, not really pushing him rather than using him as an anchor. You weren’t sure how much longer you would last with how intensely he was focusing on his task, though you were sure that was the point. His eyes left his ministrations to gaze into yours, that magenta color more concentrated than ever. There was a sense of mutual need between you in that moment that pushed you over the edge, and you came against him, crashing like a wave into harbor, a moan ripped from your throat as you experienced what could only be described as pure ecstasy. Lifting his skilled tongue from you, he snickered, rising to meet your mouth with his. You sighed into the kiss, tasting yourself inside of him.

            “How was I, sugarlips?” He spoke against your lips, moving them to press lazy kisses along your jawline. “Good as you imagined?”

            “Ha, better,” You laughed breathlessly. “God, I’m still shaking.”

            “Good, ‘cuz that’s not all I got.” Beetlejuice winked down at you, rose back onto his knees and straddled your hips against his own. You felt his arousal press against your entrance through his tattered dress pants, your senses alerting yet again. “Think you’re up for it, babe?” He shot a mischievous glance down at you.

            You looked from the bulge in his pants and back to him. Feeling brave, you smirked. “I’m not a pussy. I’ll take anything you got.”

            This answer seemed to please him, and he quickly unzipped himself to reveal his length to you. It was longer than you had anticipated, but you had a feeling Beetlejuice could manipulate his body as much as he pleased, depending on who he was involved with. It made you feel oddly special to receive one of his _larger_ performances.

            “Gotta warn you, sweetheart, it’s gonna hurt a bit. ‘Specially if this is your first time on the ride.” He sidled up to you, spreading your thighs on either side of him. “You been around the wagon before?”

            At first, you didn’t know what he meant. Then realization dawned on you, and you felt yourself flush with embarrassment. _He didn’t know you were a virgin._ It wasn’t like you were inherently attractive or popular with other people, so you had never really pursued or been pursued by anyone else. Not like you would have been able to, anyway. All your thoughts always came back to this awful bug man, even in the midst of brief crushes you’d had on different people in college. You swallowed thickly and averted your gaze to the pillows surrounding either side of you.

            “I…I’ve never been with anyone else.” You spoke quietly, hoping he hadn’t heard. But of course, he had. He always heard you, sometimes even heard your thoughts if he tried hard enough.  You felt him stiffen in front of you, and cringed. _Oh god it’s over oh god oh god he thinks I’m disgusting oh Christ what have I done—_

            “Y’know…” You stopped in your lament when you heard him speak. “I’ve done a lot of people. Tons. Can’t even count how many. Pretty sure there isn’t even a number for how many things I’ve fucked in the past.” He chuckled as you shot him a warning glare. “But those people have been around the block almost as many times as I have. Hell, maybe even more. Point is,” He leant down to kiss your temple. “I never get to be someone’s first.” 

            You looked directly into his eyes, and became aware of the adoration within them. Almost brought to tears, you hugged him to your chest, trying to keep your composure.

            _“Thank you.”_ He heard you whisper, and a smile lingered on his lips before he pushed himself upwards once more, pulling your hips close.

            “I’ll treat you right, babe. Let ol’ BJ take you on a ride to Pleasureville.” You snorted at his horrible joke, and relaxed a bit from your previous upset.

            Slowly, he aligned his length to your entrance, pressing against it slowly, so as not to alarm you. Once the head was in, you began to familiarize yourself with the foreign feeling of it inside of you. You let out a shaky breath, letting your hands rest on his shoulders. Seeing this as a sign of contentedness from you, he pushed more of himself inside, hissing slightly when you tightened around him. It was a natural reaction, but you tried to become more adaptive as he moved further in, letting out a small moan as he nearly filled you completely. He bottomed out within seconds due to the natural lubricant from your past climax, his breathing heavy. You could tell he wanted to let loose, go at it like he did with everyone else, but he was going to treat you with care this time. He knew he’d have his chance with you later, maybe get some of his more carnal desires filled once you were used to his sexual presence. For now, it was a Foundations class.

            “You okay?” He looked down at you, his eyes filled with hunger. You nodded quickly, knowing that you both wanted this to happen. _Needed_ it to. You had waited five long, distant years and it had all come to this moment. With your consent, he began setting a pace, slow but steady, increasing speed with each thrust he rocked into your frame. He held your hips in place, grunting as he became more insistent, pulling moans out of you like a pianist at a pipe organ. He pressed all the right keys, filled you in places you hadn’t even known existed. You clutched his shoulders, bucking up into him as much as you could with his strong hands holding you in place. He looked into your eyes, pushing impossibly further inside of you the longer you held each other’s gaze. He wanted to remember what you looked like in this moment; the way you panted and gasped each time he twitched his hips a certain way, your parted lips and your tongue that would peek out only to wet the red flesh surrounding it. It ate him up inside that he hadn’t confronted you while he had his chance. He might’ve been able to have this for _much longer_ had he listened to his gut. Problem was, his gut was usually _wrong_. Not with you, though. He’d never felt this level of intimacy with anyone else, let alone a living person. It was surreal, almost, that you were so willing to give yourself to him. He wouldn’t let himself mess this up like he did everything else. No, this person was worth keeping around. _You_ were worth keeping around.

            He knelt down, letting your hips free from his grip while he cradled your face in his hands, pulling you into a deep kiss, once again exploring your mouth with his tongue. He let his thrusts become rougher, and he ate the gasps and moans erected from your lips as he moved against you. There was nothing but this moment, and he wanted to fill you completely. He ran his fingers through your hair, gripping onto you while you hooked your legs around his waist, pulling him further inside, closer and closer to you until you were flush against each other, almost one single being. He breathed into your mouth between kisses, no words spoken but the sentiment there all the same. Angling his hips suddenly, you felt him hit a certain spot inside of you that had you arching into his stomach, your breath taken from you. He smirked, realizing what little piece of treasure he had found, and began assaulting that area with each roll of his abdomen. You barely had time to vocalize your pleasure before he was thrusting into _that spot_ again, over and over, holding you down with his movements until he had you quivering underneath him, completely submitted to his influence. He moved to lick your neck, reminiscent of how this all began, and bit at where your jugular was, beating hard and fast with adrenaline. It pleased him to feel how hard your heart beat when he did these things to you, and he knew he could make you see stars if he pressed you just a _little bit_ farther. So, he leaned forward against you, somehow edging deeper into your opening, and slammed into you. You let out a sudden gasp, grabbing at his back, steadying yourself against this new, rougher pace of movement. He moaned along with you, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic with each turn of the pendulum. You tightened around his cock, back arching once more as your vision blurred to almost black, small spots of light flashing across your vision. Your body rocked against him, and he pushed in once more before he too was sent over the edge, pressing you down into the abused mattress as he filled you to the brim with his come. Your muscles twitched around his length once more before you gave out and collapsed, him falling on top of you in exhaustion. Both of you were spent, breathing eventually slowing after a few moments of calm.

            Beetlejuice pulled out, careful not to hurt you and rolled onto his side to give you both some air. He lifted his hand to push the hair out of your face, gazing at you fondly.

            “Good to have you back, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> lmao anyway thanks for readin' y'all


End file.
